


Old Doesn’t Begin to Cover It

by MeinNameIstJette



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cid is trying to keep his cool, Cor's a little shit, Gen, family-like dynamic, new jacket, old jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinNameIstJette/pseuds/MeinNameIstJette
Summary: Cid doesn't understand why Cor won't just get a new jacket! He swears the old thing will kill the kid one of these days, it'll only be a matter of time.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26
Collections: The Lion's Sigil Zine





	Old Doesn’t Begin to Cover It

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to The Liong Sigil Zine! It was such a fun and trying project to work on. Thanks to both moderators for being fantastic and constantly transparent! :)

“That jacket is going to be the end of you!” Cid grumbles as he fastens safety pins to Cor’s sleeve for what felt like the tenth time that day.

Cor stares intently back at him without a reply, nonplussed by the situation. His eyes unnervingly follow Cid’s every move, as if afraid the older man would run off with the thing. The jacket may have been too big on Cor, but it certainly wouldn’t fit Cid- nor was it something that he would ever consider wearing. 

“Try it on now.” Cid frowns.

Cor takes the jacket and slips it on, lifting both arms to feel out the new length of the sleeves. “Still too long.” 

Cid looks about ready to strangle the boy but thankfully Weskham intervenes. “Let me look at it, Cor.” 

It’s clear Regis’ retainer is trying to avoid a potential murder. One where he’s honestly unsure who the victim would truly be. It doesn’t help when the boy gives Cid an arching expression that almost sets the man off again. 

“Also, throw away those old damn receipts in your pocket, boy! They’re as old as me!” Cid growls, to which Cor's expression darkens dangerously. 

Weskham, as quick as he is, manages to slip an arm around the teen’s shoulders and usher him away.

The man watches as Cor slips off the jacket again and it really does have him wondering why he doesn’t just get something in his size. Weskham takes the garment and stares at it, gaze falling on the safety pins Cid had carefully weaved into it. 

“Why do you insist on wearing this?” Weskham can’t help but ask. “The Crownsguard will provide you with a proper uniform, one that fits.” 

The words are meant to be soothing, but the way Cor tenses up speaks volumes. It certainly didn’t help that Cid had riled the already prickly boy up. 

“This fits fine.” Cor snaps, brows knit and arms crossed over his chest. It’s moments like these that it’s believable that Cor’s barely fifteen. 

Weskham heaves a sigh but he nods. “Of course, I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Regis walks by at that exact moment and picks up on the tone. He slows down, studying the boy before he feels Clarus’ hand on the middle of his back, gently urging him forward. The young Prince glances up at his Shield questioningly, but the look on Clarus’ face and a slight shake of his head become answer enough. 

This was not something anyone would ever convince Cor of otherwise.

\---

Engine cut and lights on. 

Cid paces back and forth in front of his truck, cell phone out as he frantically texts Clarus. That boy really was going to be the end of them all. 

Gilgamesh! Of all challenges! 

Cid pauses in his pacing to read Clarus’ message before slipping the phone into his pocket. He was going to strangle the boy the moment he stepped out. 

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed, but he knows that his feet hurt and his heart feels heavy. It’s only when the sun crests the horizon and the moans of the daemons die down does Cid hear something come from the mouth of the cavern. 

The distinct sound of footsteps. Uneven footsteps. 

Cid tenses and reaches for his spear, watching as the light reveals a silhouette on the horizon. A very familiar silhouette. He takes a few tentative steps forward to make sure he's not seeing things. 

“I should tie you up by your toes and finish the job!” Cid bellows as he rushes over, clearly worried as he loops an arm under Cor’s to help him. 

The boy won’t even look at him. 

Cid doesn't expect him to, and so assesses Cor instead. The much maligned jacket hangs off thin shoulders in shreds, showing damaged skin beneath and staying on only by pure determination. His long katana is nowhere to be seen, there's splatter of blood that might not be his, and Cid thinks for a minute he may see him trembling beneath the torn fabric- but it's fleeting and he can't be entirely sure.

“I am not sorry.” Cor strains. 

Usually, Cid would argue, but he could tell that Cor was already on the edge.. So instead, he simply sighs and seats him on the back of his truck.. 

“Off with your jacket.” Cid urges softly, or as soft as Cid can manage given the circumstances. 

The reaction Cid gets from baby Crownsguard is not one he had ever expected, Cor's expression contorting painfully as if he were pouring every ounce of himself into holding back soul-wrenching pain. His shoulders shaking with the strain, holding back body wracking sobs. It was as if Cid were watching sand pathetically leak out of a cracked hourglass.

“N-no.” Cor barely gets out, voice as cracked as Cid’s imagery. 

“The thing is already falling off of you. There’s nothing left.” 

Cid watches as Cor breaks. The boy shatters and folds into himself before Cid’s eyes. 

Tears run down Cor's face unabashedly as he becomes unable to contain his sobs. Cid realizes he has no idea what to say, but he pulls him tight against his side in an awkward hug and does his best to be the reassuring figure he misinterprets the teen to need right now.

“You survived, Cor.” Cid murmurs. “That’s the most important thing.”

“N-no…” Cor barely manages to gasp out. “M-my...my jacket…”

Cid’s brows knit together. This jacket was going to cause a murder. 

“Forget about the blasted jacket!” Cid growls. He regrets it immediately as Cor chokes on his sob and only seems to cry harder in response, wailing now with no sign of stopping. Cid can feel his heart drop into his stomach, for once in his life taking the clue to stop talking and instead hugs the teen against him harder. They'll treat his wounds when he's done.

It takes a good fifteen minutes before Cor's sobs drift off into an exhausted sigh, slumping against the mechanic in defeat and looking utterly miserable. Cid's never been much good at comforting people, so he opts to remain quiet. Cor doesn't seem to mind.

“It was my father’s….” Cor mumbles at last, voice cracking.. “It’s the only thing I have of him now that I’ve lost my sword.” 

Well, hot blazing chocobo crud. That put many things into context. 

The jacket was destroyed. There was no salvaging it. It looked as if Cor had let it run through a shredding machine. 

Cid inhales deeply and gently ruffles Cor’s hair with his free hand. “It’ll be okay, baby Crownsguard. It’ll be okay.”

The fact that the nickname received no reaction at all was telling enough on how broken Cor must feel.

\---

Cid thought it best he keep Cor in Hammerhead after that. The boy had been completely despondent since surviving the Tempering Grounds, and hadn't budged from the window overlooking the rocky landscape of Leide.

When he had called Clarus after getting Cor ‘home’, he’d noticed how distracted the man sounded. The only indication that either Regis or Clarus were going to do something to help Cor was the vague timeline that they’d be showing up in Hammerhead sometime this week. 

Cid was busy working on a truck when he hears the familiar sound of the Regalia. He rolls himself out from under chassis and arches an unimpressed brow at the two men stepping out of the car. 

“Bout damn time!” Cid calls out to them, which has Regis smiling fondly. 

“There was something important Clarus and I had to get done,” Regis calls back, and Clarus lifts up a box to emphasize the point. Cid’s brows knit together in exasperation. 

“You think a present’s going to help the boy?” 

Clarus rolls his eyes. “It’s more than just a present, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

Cid harrumphs and he moves to the door at the side of the shop, opening it to yell up to the sullen teen. 

“Baby Crownsguard! You have guests! I would recommend if you come down for this one!” Cid turns to look at Regis and Clarus and he shrugs. “He hasn’t moved from the window since he’s gotten back.”

“Could you take us to him?” Regis suggests. Cid grumbles and rolls his eyes, but leads the way. 

As Cid had told them, Cor’s curled up on the ledge of the window, head pressed against the glass. Unmoving and miserable.

Cid watches as Regis sits next to Cor’s feet and gently reaches to grab his hand. 

“Cor….” Regis murmurs softly. 

Nothing. 

Out of his periphery, Cid can see as Clarus sets the box down and reveals what lay inside. Cor's eyes are finally drawn away from the window as Clarus lifts out a jacket that perfectly resembled Cor's old one, except this time in his size, and respectfully presents it to him. Clarus smiles.

They all notice the way tears stream down Cor’s cheeks. His shoulders trembling once again but this time it’s on a more positive note. Cor doesn’t move but he does cling to Regis’ hand as he swallows around all of his emotions.

Clarus passes the jacket to Regis who is forced to pull his hand free so he can then drape it over Cor’s lifted and tucked knees. 

“It may not be your father’s, but this is your legacy to start now.”


End file.
